Shoe Travails, with a side helping of Fucktards in Office

Or: why I generally hate shopping reason #114 and general venom spitting at the Daddy's Boy in Office

Shoes and the procurement thereof are one of the (admittedly smaller in the general overview) bains of my life. I have a size 35 foot (5.5 fer you fellow Americans). Trying to find a pair of heels that A) suit my picky tastes B) fit my budget and mainly C) fit me is an undertaking of mythical proportions, even with the largest stock available. They just don't make a lot of 4 inch heels that fit your average pre-teen's foot. Shop assistants look at me like I'm some sort of freak when I ask for a size 35.

If, by some miracle, a size 35 is to be found on the premises, the next trick is seeing if I can squeeze my foot into it. 17 years of classical ballet has left me with disgustingly high arches, so those cute strappy sandals in the window 9 times out of 10 make me feel like one of Cinderella's step-sisters.



Boots? Ferget it, dude. Once again, if the elusive size 35 can be hunted down, dance has left me with calve muscles the size of Nevada. Which means my dreams of owning a pair of matte black leather thigh-high stilettos remain exactly that.

So I remain in Italy, home of fantastic leather shoes, with a pair of Nikes, 2 pairs of winter boots that are starting to see better days, and three pairs of summer heels that are also in need of retiring. There's a few pairs of size 36's that I bought in the foolish hope that I could get some use out of, but the damn things give me more blisters than pointe shoes ever did. (Luckily they were on sale, but seeing as none of my girl friends wear anything close to a 36, I can't pawn the fuckers off on anyone.)

Meh. And in other news, I'd like to go one record for all 10 of you who read this blog as saying:

BUSH IS A FUCKTARD.

I am waiting for the UN inspectors to find a massive illicit stash of pretzels in Iraq. Come to think of it, I'd like to see an offshoot of the anti-war protests form:

PRETZELS FOR PEACE.

Send a bag of pretzels to the White House to show your support for the anti-war movement and displeasure with the current US regime. At the very least, we can all sleep soundly in our beds knowing that the Bush twins will have a goodly supply of beer munchies.

And even though Berlusconi's nose is firmly implanted up Bush's sphincter, today's peace protest here in Roma was fucking huge. Organizers are claiming 3 million people marched today. The last time Roma saw a manifestation nearing these numbers, it was hosting the first annual World Gay Pride Parade during the Catholic Church's Jubilee Holy Year (2000 - and no, the Pope was not a happy camper.)

This is going to be one fucking unpopular war.